Because this is my country now. We’ve won it back.
Previously, if ever I wanted to leave my house a sweaty Brussels bureaucrat
would tell me I needed to A. Fill in a load of forms B. Not grow
any apples and C. Let an immigrant occupy my home while it was gone.

But all this land is finally English again. The clanking of
armoured knights is a soothing melody amongst the chorus of Shakespearean
quills scribbling sonnets. The tooting of Mr Toad’s car driven by the Fab
Four is met with the hazzah of Oliver Twist before he noshes on a giant
cake. Aunt Bessie and Rudyard Kipling get snogging.

We have been sold a premise of yesteryear, disguised as a
hand-me-down present wrapped in a comfortable blanket. But really it’s
plastic and false. Your Great Grandmother would be appalled by it’s
shabbiness, it’s damp falseness.

For years the creeping seething undercurrent of Nostalgia has
infected both the working class and the middle class. The working class
have been treated to a barrage of propaganda from The Sun and The Daily Mail, a
non-stop orchestra of violent threats, lies and bullshittery against anything
remotely foreign, and constantly blaming anything that might challenge the
white hetcis power structure: Political correctness, health & safety,
fairness and equality in the workplace, multiculturalism, diversity, anti-war,
pro-education. We have become Pavlov’s Dog, drooling and dribbling a
frothy anger at the mention of these words. Like Sun = Hot, Water = Wet
and Grass = Green anything remotely Foreign/Europe = Bad. Question
this? Get shot and stabbed in broad daylight.

The middle classes gave enjoyed their vintage fetes and
fairs. Whilst The Mumford & Sons have proliferated a rustic
trilby-wearing folksiness, the Great British Bake Off sent people back into
their kitchens. The sheer scale of Keep Calm And Carry On imagery was
more a bombardment than a suggestion. For God’s sake, they remade Dad’s
Army, which was twee even in the 1970s.

We are strangling the world with Quaintness.

And, of course, it is only after the fact we are up-in-arms.
Take a look at this Guardian article.

Artists from Rufus Norris, Lucy Prebble and organisations like the
Royal Opera House speaking passionately about the result and how we should
remain in the EU.

Fair play to this ensemble of significant British figures for
speaking their minds, but by the Seven Above…WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS NOW?

I’m not having a specific attack against Northern Broadsides, but
as an example their artistic director Barrie Rutter makes a passionate and
spot-on analysis of the situation. But Northern Broadsides didn’t Tweet
or Facebook about the vote once this past week.The London International Festival of Theatre don’t
have anything on their Blog. Royal Opera House make a statement in the
article, but none before the 23rd.

Rutter ends his piece with “Then we start the
fightback” but here’s what
Durham folk-punkersONSINDhave to say:

“I'm so worn out from offering ultimately
hollow messages of "keep fighting" every time something like this
happens, which is all too frequent. The fact is, for as long as I can remember,
we haven't fought. I haven't fought. And things have gone from bad to worse.”

Why is it we constantly need to be beaten back to
try and fight back. Why do we need to be knocked by 2 places to try and
step forwards? Why it is we can only rise when already beaten into the
gutter?

Too little too late?

I’m guilty I didn’t do enough. I don’t do
enough. But I have a very cynical taste in the back of my mouth when
fellow artists are stirred to make ART in response. I suppose I’ll give
it a go, I’ll write some poems, I’ll perform them, I’ll moan online. I’ll
try I suppose, but I’m cynical whether we’re “fighting.”

Sunday, 19 June 2016

Spider-Man is transported to a planet on the other side of
the galaxy, where The Beyonder and Madam Webb, powerful being from another
dimension, have transported 4 evil villains to essentially ruin the peace of
this world. Spider-Man, as their
champion for Good, must assemble a team to oppose the villains and prove that
justice will win out.

It’s a good old-fashioned Super-Man team-up, something the
90s Spiderman cartoon did very well, with Iron Man, Dr Strange, Captain America,
the X-Men & Daredevil popping up from time-to-time. This storyline was inspired by the Secret War
comic from the 1980s, which tested the water for a grand heroic crossover event
which Marvel as since rolled out so much it’s crushed the grass.

The first 5-6ish issues of Secret Wars are pretty exciting, heroes
fight, lose, regroup, battle, have infighting and fall in love like a soap
opera. It sets up some interesting
subplots, such as the Wasp being kidnapped by Magneto, the X-Men acting as a
neutral force and the Hulk losing his savagery and intelligence making him
kinda limbo-ishly useless. Alas, the
last few issues just involve the heroes stranding around watching Galactus, and
the Wasp essentially gets rescued, Hulk still does his job and the X-Men help
out and it’s all fine.

I rewatched the Spiderman saga, and it’s amazing how the
Secret War lasts a mere 3 episodes, essentially about an hour, when it felt so
massive back in the day. I guess with a
week between Saturday mornings, it was bound to feel more of a saga. The sheer scale of the heroes is exciting,
Cap and Iron Man remind you how this Spiderverse exists without the Avengers,
and Doom proves what a cool villain he is, even when guesting in another world.

Team-ups are always great.
Whether a Suicide Squad, Avengers assembling or rogues gallery playing
cards, in comic books and cartoons to see all the Insidious schemers in union
it’s always a bigger danger, a bigger reward for victory. Of course it’s also the soap opera element,
in the Secret War comic Titania and Absorbing Man bicker before falling for one
another, in the Spiderman cartoon Doc Ock and Scorpion, one an educated Doctor
and the other a streetwise private eye, trade insults.

Last night I hosted the 4th Words & Whippets
night, a collection of poets from across Yorkshire, Joanne Foxton and Dave
Jarman from York, Rachel Bower from Sheffield and Andy Craven-Griffiths from
Leeds. These have always been fun compilations
of poets, a mix of people who know each other, a mix of strangers and a mix of
styles all melting together in the warm blackness of the Studio.

The night before (Friday) I put on a gig with an assortment
of bands and musicians, Depresstival from Leeds, my band Pewter City Punks,
poet Imi Godwin, acoustic psychobilly 2-piece Dead Drummer, alt-cabaret FloraGreysteel and American folk-punkers Captain Chaos. It was a real mixture of not just genres and
styles, but genders and sexualities and, if I do say so myself, it did feel
like a real diverse mix all upstairs in the steam of Dusk.

These are a bit like super-hero team-ups. Nah, they are EXACTLY like super-hero
team-ups.

Nights like these make an interesting concoction. Joss Whedon said he wanted to add Scarlet
Witch and Quicksilver to Avengers: Age
of Ultron because he felt the Avengers for the first film were all a bit “punchy.” The airport scene in Captain America-Civil
War showed a greater diverse range of powers, strengths and styles. And it was glorious.

The great thing about X-Men films is that there’s always a
mixture of powers, and to an extent Justice League and Teen Titans offer this
range of abilities (TT is essentially the great format of alien/technology/mutant/martial
arts/magic which tend to make up all power-origins).

Yesterday a convoy taking supplies to support refugees in Calais
was refused boarding on the ferry, despite everyone having a valid passport and
ticket.

This week a fascist with ties to a right-wing organisation, presumably
inspired by the fear-mongering of a ‘broken Britain’ murdered an MP.

This week a man went into a nightclub and shot people
because they were LBGTQ+ and, possibly, non-white.

Next week we’ll, most likely, vote to leave the EU and see a
surge in a nationalism which isn’t limited to patriotically taping the Great British
Bake-Off, but one that sees both increased direct and indirect harm to minority
groups.

Because we need diversity to fight these wars. I’m not just talking about our gig line-ups,
of course. I mean how we co-operative,
connect and support one another when the going gets tough.

So here’s to diverse line-ups, team-ups, mash-ups and not-so-Secret
Wars.

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Since 2013, Words & Whippets has brought together some of the finest poets from across Yorkshire. We’re proud to present another annual spectacular showcase of spoken word poetry from across God’s Own Country! In the past, W&W has sold out so make sure you grab your ticket for an exciting night of raw words!

ANDY CRAVEN-GRIFFITHSLeeds-based master of weaving words. Unmissable powerhouse story-teller spinning tales of growing up, family and love. Andy is an engaging performer who has played at Glastonbury, Latitude and Battersea Arts Centre, been featured on Radio 1, Radio 4 and BBC 2 and is lead singer for high energy rap band MIDDLEMAN.

RACHEL BOWERArtist-In-Residence at Bank Street Arts in Sheffield and a Cultural Research Fellow at the University of Leeds, Rachel is a fantastic writer and performer. She runs Verse matters in Sheffield, an inclusive feminist poetry night.

DAVE JARMANYou may have caught this Easingwold local lad spouting poetry with the tenacity of a ten-tonne tractor across the fair city. When he’s not spitting rhymes with his band Gobbledigook or writing plays with his theatre company (also called Gobbledigook) he’s performing poetry about life, love, politics and talking cows.

Compered by HENRY RABY.Henry is co-host of Say Owt Slam, associate artist of Red Ladder Theatre Company and official Nerd Punk. His poetry is anarchic, political, honest and usually references dinosaurs.

Thursday, 2 June 2016

Punk: Fuck the manHardcore: Hate the manOi: OI I'm a manPost-punk: Are we not men?Pop-Punk: Never gonna grow up, man!Glam punk: I'm a man, babyNazi punk: No thanks, manGarage punk: I'm a dog, man2Tone: I'm a skankin' manSka-Punk: I'm a faster skankin' manSkacore: I'm an even faster skankin' manSkate punk: The man took away my skateboardCowpunk: Ride 'em cowboymanPsychobilly: You're a dead manHorror Punk: Boogie manIndie Punk: 1978, manRiot Grrl: Kill all menAfro-Punk: Kill all white menMacho bro punk: Not all menAnarcho punk: Feeding of the 5000 menCrustpunk: Squat the manChristian punk: I'm a Godly manStreetpunk: OI fuck the manCeltic punk: Drink like a manFolk-punk: Fuck the man like we did back in the dayGypsy Punk: Men without bordersTaqwacore: Fuck the AmericanmanMelodic punk: Fuck the man with noiseElectropunk: Fuck the man with a different kind of noiseQueer Punk: Fuck the man